I'm just going to preface this by saying: My Family Cleans Beaches. We do this in Alaska, but the Meissner Rule for enjoying any beach anywhere is "5 Pieces of Trash. Everybody."

We don't do this because we are better than other people. We don't do this because we're out to save the world. We do this because we love animals and hate the fact that they unknowingly and unfairly ingest plastics and die. We do this because we returned three times to an exhibit at the Anchorage Museum last year (Gyre: The Plastic Ocean) and it was a call to arms for our insistent otter-seal-whale-shore-bird-loving children. We do this because we are treasure hunters at heart and feel that if we can instill some sense of beauty and fairness in our children it will serve them well, because, frankly, all our children and our children's children and our children's children's children are destined to clean beaches forever.

If the act is ingrained in their bodies, in their will, maybe the living question will grow as they grow, until one of them/some of them/all of them finally demand the right answers or solve the right problems. Someday.

Also, I will come clean right now and admit that we are staying at a resort.

(insert sad trumpet sound here, or mariachi band, your choice)

And here's where I could also insert a squirmy excuse. Something about needing a break from Alaska and having the ability to tap into my husband's 75-Zillion-K-MVP-Gold-and-Ruby-Studded-Air-Mile status; then over-describe the deep fatigue involved in accumulating this kind of mileage and his migraine that never subsides; then explain even further how we nearly cancelled this muy bueno trip multiple times with finger hovering over the keyboard in that forget-it-forget-it-forget-it-just-forget-it kind of way ... but ...

right.

I am aware/feeling guilty/feeling conflicted/feeling malo that this choice makes us part of The Problem.

Cleaning a Mexican beach is penance.

And on it we found: - enough plastic utensils to feed everyone at the Last Supper. - and enough straws for everyone there to enjoy two mojitos each. - and enough bits of powdery degraded clamshell take-out containers as proof everyone must have had severe indigestion. - and a pink plastic princess teeth flosser, for after dinner sharing.

We found: - enough footwear to shoe a family of 6, one left foot at a time, including a very teeny pink Birkenstock baby sandal that set some Grandma back at least $50, a kid's black Croc, and an extremely large black sequined flip flop, like, perfect for a 6'4" drag queen. (Damn if her sweet waxed and manicured toes aren't missing this right about now). - 50 + plastic bottle caps. - 20 + straws - 30 + plastic soda/water bottles (Do NOT, and I can't repeat this enough, DO NOT touch the capped bottles half filled with amber liquid. That's either chew spit or fisherman pee. I'm telling you, just leave it there). - a syringe, no needle (Everyone! Flip flops back on!) - 5 glass bottles (Again! Everyone! Flip flops back on!) - another momentarily frightening-how-do-I-explain-this-freakish-anatomically-err-correct thing:

We found: -that people ignored the trash at their sunbathing feet. -ignored that they were swimming in it. -ignored that they were walking by it. -ignored the family cleaning up the trash, except one lady:

One Lady: "Oh Mah Gawd, are y'all cleanin' up the beach? Look honey, they're cleanin' up the beach! That's so nice!" Thank y'all for doin' that! Have fun!

Me: " .... "

We found: - rope. - travel sized deodorants, shampoos, lotion bottles, jugs. - a rusted barrel with sealed lid (not for touching). - the coveted Lego piece, in "Patina Blue," discovered only once before, 6,000 miles away. In "Patina Yellow." - that the teeny rip-stop nylon bags we started out with on the first day were full after 14 minutes and required an upgrade to in-suite trash bag.

We found: - that the sun is so intense that most plastics erupted into brittle shards the moment we disturbed them and that this made us feel like we were making The Problem worse. - that biting ants live in crunchy seaweed. - that when we did the math, if each person back there came out and followed the Meissner "5 Pieces of Trash. Everybody." Rule ... it still wouldn't make a difference.

- that no matter how beautiful something is on the outside, there is always an icky underbelly.

- and that no matter how ugly something is on the outside, it still contains moments of perfection.

Hola Liz,
Me gusto mucho that you read my blog and have shared it, too -- everyone needs a raucous laugh now and then and if the laughs are left with deep, serious thinks, then all the better.
Thank you so much for commenting!
XO Amy

I clean up beaches wherever I wander but sometimes I wonder if that trash bag full of stuff just goes back again...via a bin...then a truck...then a dump over the next few hills...and right back in the water.

But I have to hope and believe that it's doing some good otherwise I'd be clinically depressed. All the time. Good on you and your five rule. But Australian beaches have a lot more, so if you ever want a really relaxing holiday, save the air points for someplace cleaner. If there is one.

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Marcy Horswill

6/16/2015 04:07:02 am

Inspiring me to do more cleaning while we boat... :-) I think I'll take some gloves though... not so brave as you!

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Nan Jacobson

5/25/2016 06:32:04 pm

Your blog is so enjoyable. As a little girl who was fortunate enough to spend summers at my Grandparents camp at Portage Lake, Maine, I remember the beaches being free of debris. (1960's) So many fond memories of the sound of loons and the smell of pine trees. As an adult I love to camp, hike, mountain bike and kayak. On a daily basis I see what other's, who profess to love the outdoors, leave behind at the end of their "outdoor adventures." Leaving trash behind has never been something I could comprehend. I've also volunteered to clean trout steams in NY as well as beaches and mangroves in the Fla. Keys. There are many lessons learned. One lesson was "sometimes what appears to be a rope could also be a snake." Another lesson was "a hand sticking up out of seaweed isn''t necessarily a crime scene." Sometimes hands are merely discarded or lost(?) manikin parts. I've also cleaned up many backwoods campsites in the NY State Adirondacks. I decided that some people camp to enjoy the outdoors, while others camp to enjoy 5 bottles of whiskey and 1 bottle of rum. At the same campsite I came across 12 rusted D batteries located less than 50 ft from the shoreline of a trout breeding lake. For obvious reasons I decided to haul everything out of the woods in my backpack. I will admit that, after the first 5 miles, I was tempted to leave it all behind due to the extra weight and the sound of the repetitive clanking. Shear tenacity made me persevere I convinced myself the noise was much like the sound of wind chimes. You aren't alone in your efforts, Amy. I admire what you are teaching your children. What your family does to make a small dent in such a colossal problem is to be commended. Well done and well written.

Nan,
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my blog and comment about your own experiences here. We, too, have hauled sacks and crates of trash through the woods after a "hike" has deposited us on a trash-strewn beach. Luckily the kids are getting older and are more capable. The hardest thing to leave behind are the massive fishing nets/ropes (too heavy) and the exploded styrofoam (too small, too pervasive). Thank you so much for cleaning in your area as well. I'd like to complain to Jack Daniels/Red Bull/Gatorade/Pepsi/Monster/Budweiser/Energizer/4-hour Energy...but I'll have to save that for another burst of inspiration. One of he craziest things I've ever found was an enormous lightbulb (10-12"), glass intact.
XO
Amy

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Amy Meissner

Artist in Anchorage, Alaska, sometimes blogging about the collision of history, family & art, with the understanding that none exists without the other.​